


Dream Sweet [PILOT]

by vastimagines



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Acrophobia, Beholding Avatar Gerard Keay, Child Neglect, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Found Family, Gaslighting, Gen, Jonah Magnus being a fucking bitch, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Profanity, Smoking, Vast Avatar Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, thalassophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vastimagines/pseuds/vastimagines
Summary: Gerry, Jon, and Agnes were each seen by entities at young ages that they latched onto to survive. With no real home and different paths laid out for each of them, they try to navigate the world and the many people in it and whether they truly mean them health or harm.Please be sure to read the tags and content warnings that come with each chapter.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims & Gerard Keay & Agnes Montague
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	Dream Sweet [PILOT]

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a story I'm working on. I finished this first chapter before a bunch of life happened and disrupted my writing schedule. Please know that I am actively working on this story and that the title will be changing.
> 
> For updates please join me on tumblr @ vastimagines! I hope to see you soon!

Jonathan Sims was hardly old enough to form lasting memories when his parents died, one shortly after the other. Accidents. That’s what everyone said. His father fell off a ladder and something simple that went wrong in routine surgery while his mother was under. That left a child alone, a child that couldn’t comprehend why his parents weren’t coming home, a child that was left to face the wide, vast world.

He didn’t remember the funerals or what happened to the house or his parents’ things. He was confused and sad and scared. What he did remember was going from house to house and being introduced to people that he didn’t know but were supposedly his family. A woman whose name wasn’t saved by his memory would drop him off and talk to the adults before leaving, but he was never there long.

He never slept well in those houses. He could hear everyone talking about him when he was in the other room, laying on a sofa with a blanket or two.

“When can I go home?”

No one ever answered his questions.

“Where are my mummy and daddy? Are they coming to get me?”

If anyone did answer his questions, they were given in one word, and soon after the woman would be back to pick him up and bring him somewhere else. It was as if he were a toy being passed along, and at some point, Jonathan started crying himself to sleep.

“Can I see my mummy and daddy, please?” he asked the woman one day in the car after she’d picked him up from another house.

She looked back at him, then she said, “No.”

“Why?”

She was quiet and there were only the sounds of the engine and the wind outside and the car rumbling over the roads. “Your parents are gone. They died.”

“They aren’t coming back?”

“No.”

After that, young Jonathan ate less and slept more. Even if other kids in the households tried to be nice and play with him, Jonathan was never interested, or they were too loud. One day a boy pulled on his arm to try to make him play. Jonathan’s first instinct was to hit the hand that had latched onto him until he let go, and he did. Of course, Jonathan was punished, but Jonathan always kept things in his pockets, and he preferred to be in a corner by himself where it was quiet and he could play with a small bit of clay in his hands. Time out might as well have been a rescue for Jonathan were it not the fact that he and everyone else knew that he was in trouble.

One day, the woman Jonathan had grown familiar with among all the different people he’d met over the months came and got him again. The next and last house she brought him to was a small house on a quiet road. On the way there, the woman pointed out the window at the beach and asked him if he liked to swim, but despite how awake he was, he didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to swim and he’d never been to a beach before.

Jonathan looked up to the dark door in front of him and heard a bit of music when the woman pushed the doorbell. Jonathan wasn’t sure the door would open. This person probably didn’t want him either. Maybe they didn’t have another bed or they didn’t have enough money to keep him. When the door did open, a woman with silver hair looked down at him through small glasses, and Jonathan wanted to hide behind the woman who’d driven him there.

“Miriam Sims?”

“Yes.” The older woman said. Her voice was loud like she wasn’t sure they could hear her.

“This is Jonathan, your grandson.”

She nodded, still looking at Jonathan as if he were a subject to be studied. “Yes, I see that.” There was a slight pitch at the end of her sentences that bothered Jonathan’s ears, though he tried not to show it.

“May we come in?”

That’s where Jonathan ended up and that’s where he’d stay until he came of age, but he didn’t know that then. All Jonathan knew then was that he had been left at yet another house with another adult who didn’t want him. This adult was his grandmother whom he’d never met before; the blood relation didn’t mean much to Jon, though, and since he had never seen her before, despite being his grandmother, he could only assume she felt the same way as every other adult he’d been taken to.

He didn’t sleep the first night there. The house creaked and shifted in the wind, and whenever Jonathan’s grandmother came down the hallway to check on him he always knew from the sound of the floorboards creaking. He’d duck under the blanket and close his eyes, and when he was sure she’d left, he’d sit back up and curl up near the window and stare at the sky outside.

There weren’t many street lights outside and Jonathan’s window looked out the back of the house. That first night in that old, small house, Jonathan stared into the night sky and watched the stars appear and slowly fade as dawn came over the horizon. He could hear the light screeches of bats as they flitted into his view every so often, but he was always looking to the sky.

Jonathan found himself wishing he could fly like those bats. He wanted to fly into the sky so high that he could touch the moon and see what a star looked like up close.

When Jonathan’s grandmother pushed the bedroom door open, Jonathan was leaning against the window sill, his arms limp but still holding his knees to his chest.

Miriam had every intention of taking care of her grandson. Her time for raising her own children had long since passed, but when her son had died it had been sudden, and all she had of his new life were letters and photographs of his family: himself, his wife, and their son. She didn’t want to raise another child. Her life and her home were no longer suitable for children, let alone a four-year-old. This was her son’s child, though, and maybe the only thing she had left of him. He looked less like his father than he did his mother; a Jewish woman who spoke with formal wording, but when Jonathan began to come into himself she saw her son in every aspect of her grandson.

Jonathan knew none of this. The only thing he knew was how lost and alone he felt, and how comforting the sky was when he didn’t know what else to do.

He didn’t leave the small bedroom. His bag was on the floor by the side of the bed, still zipped closed, and hadn’t been opened once since he’d arrived at this small, creaky house. The only times he left were to use the toilet and when his grandmother insisted that he come to the kitchen to eat something, though he hardly had an appetite. He’d eat a few small bites of a sandwich and put it down to the displeasure of his grandmother. He was never full, but he wasn’t hungry either.

On the third day there, his grandmother told him to go outside. She’d pushed the bedroom door open and stood in the doorway.

“You can’t sit inside forever and mope. Go outside and get some fresh air. It’ll make you feel better.”

It didn’t.

Jonathan went outside that afternoon at his grandmother’s demand and he sat in the grass. The grass was soft and prickly and Jonathan rather liked the feeling and the soft scent of grass. That enjoyment was drowned out in a second when ants and other tiny bugs started crawling up his legs and onto his hands. Leaving the grass of the front yard, Jonathan started a slow walk down the pavement with his hands deep in his pockets, swinging at every phantom itch that felt like a bug crawling on his skin.

He didn’t know where he was going. Maybe he’d find a clear area where he could see the sky without any obstructions. He wished he could fall into the sky. Dumb gravity.

When Jonathan looked to his left and saw the wide-open horizon, his mouth fell open at the beauty of the clear sky covered in clouds with no trees or buildings in the way; just the endless sky and a cool, salty breeze.

The roads were all quite busy, but that didn’t stop Jonathan from darting across the street at the smallest break in traffic and crawling under the rails to see a noisy, crowded beach between him and the coastline. All the excitement leaked out of Jonathan as his gaze wandered the sandy land filled with towels, chairs, umbrellas, and more people than he’d ever seen before in one place. His heart sank, but he kept walking. He walked with his gaze fixed on the beach for an empty area; an area that would allow him to soak in the sky quietly and alone. He’d almost about given up when he came to an old, empty dock. There weren’t any boats docked near it or people fishing off it or using it as a jumping-off point into the water.

Jonathan walked onto the dock as it creaked and moved under his feet, and at the very end, he stood still and looked out into the wide-open waters. The water crashed against the supports of the dock that, as Jonathan realized, he didn’t know how far they went down. He looked down into the water and couldn’t see the bottom. He couldn’t even see a meter below the surface. He wondered how deep it was and what the dark waters were hiding. He wondered if he jumped in if he’d ever reach the surface again.

Jonathan got down on his hands and knees and reached down, stretching his small arms until his fingers dipped into the cold water and a shiver ran up his arm. He pushed and pulled his hand in the water like he did in the bath, watching the new currents he made move the water around his hand. He reached further, straining his shoulder and leaning over the edge of the wood planks to push his hand completely under the water. He watched the tips of his fingers fade into the dark waters, and Jonathan was fascinated with it.

How much was in the water that it could swallow his fingers? Would it swallow him whole if he jumped in? How many animals did it hide under its surface?

He pulled his hand out, cold and wet, and dripping with water that changed the color of the old wood. He stared into the water, wondering how far he’d have to let himself sink before his feet touched the bottom. He looked into the dark, vast, bottomless water and felt like it was staring right back at him. It felt the same way it did when he stared into the sky like he was capturing the small bits but also all of the sky at once. He wondered if the sky and the ocean looked back at him the same way; if they’d take hold of him if he let them.

Jonathan pulled himself up to his feet and stood on the edge of the dock, his toes wiggling in the open air. He could smell the salt on the soft ocean breeze as he leaned forward. He felt his feet slip off the edge and there was a moment when he was in the air, not yet in the water while nothing was holding him up, and he wanted to stay like that forever. Then he crashed into the water. It was cold and dark, and there was nothing while at the same time there was everything.

Low reaching seaweed licked at his ankles, surging panic through the young boy’s heart. Even with his eyes open, he couldn’t see anything in the dark waters. He looked up and saw pinpricks of light like night had already fallen despite knowing it was only the early afternoon.

He sunk deeper and deeper, holding his breath while his throat and lungs burned. He kicked his feet wildly, the instinct to survive fighting to save Jonathan, but as he kicked he only sank lower as his mind raced in panic. He finally couldn’t hold his breath any longer and let go and breathed in, and his lungs filled with saltwater. Jonathan fell into coughing that only made him inhale more of the ocean. Jonathan’s body started to shut down, trying to preserve the most important systems, and consciousness was not one of them. Jonathan looked up, tired in more ways than just physically, and he saw the lights begin to fade just as there was a strong yank on the back of his shirt that viciously pulled him up and out of the water and dropped him back onto the dock.

Jonathan hit the deck on his back, water spewing out of his mouth as he was pulled up in a sitting position. A hand clapped on his back and Jonathan wasn’t sure if that was helping or hindering the effort his lungs made to cough up all the water he’d inhaled. Jonathan’s chest and throat felt like they were on fire. When he finally stopped coughing so violently, he turned his head and saw an old man crouched beside him with a hand on his back.

“Out for a midnight swim are we?”

Jonathan’s breaths came quickly and some of them evoked a few rough coughs that sparked a fire in his throat and chest. He looked up and saw the night sky and was stuck in wonder for a moment at the thousands of stars visible, that is, before he was overtaken again by a fit of coughing that inflamed the inside of his body.

“Why is it night?” Jonathan asked. His voice was scratchy and it hurt to talk.

“You were under there for some time, sport,” he said without answering his question. “I’m sure you could have lasted some time longer, but you looked like you weren’t enjoying yourself too much.”

Jonathan looked at the man, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. What was he talking about? What was he supposed to say to this man with silver hair and wrinkled skin dressed like he was on holiday? Maybe he should have said thank you, but he didn’t feel particularly grateful; in fact, he felt more sad than he’d been when he realized he’d never get to see his mummy and daddy again.

The man smiled at Jonathan and his eyes sparkled. “I’m Simon. What’s your name?”

“J- Jonathan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan nodded as he hugged himself tightly, folding his legs close to his chest. He didn’t know how it’d gotten so late so fast, but the ocean breeze was cold in the night against his drenched clothing and skin. He was shivering in seconds, confused, cold, and miserable as his breathing became rapid and his head started spinning. He started rocking himself back and forth, more for the comfort of the repetitive motion than keeping himself warm, and he didn’t stop- he couldn’t- when a suit jacket was draped over his shoulders. It was the white jacket Simon had been wearing over his Hawaiian shirt. It quickly became a towel on Jonathan’s shoulders but all the boy did was wrap the jacket tighter around himself as it was big enough and he was small enough that the jacket enveloped his small body.

“I expect you didn’t plan on drowning for that long, were you?” Simon asked.

Jonathan looked away from Simon’s face and looked at his knees just below his chin.

“I recommend not trying it again. I presume you’d have a similarly unpleasant experience, though it would further you along quicker.” He stopped as if he were pondering the situation, and Jonathan glanced up from the corner of his eye to see him pondering the thought. “Anyhow,” he continued. “You can’t be helped if you’re dead.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure if he was crying or his cheeks just felt that way because he was soaked from head to toe, but Simon looked at him almost apologetically.

“It’s an awful world isn’t it?”

Jonathan gave the slightest nod of his head. “Yeah. No one wants me.”

“Well, that’s just not true! I know something that will always want you.” Jonathan’s head snapped up to look up at Simon with wide eyes. Simon held out his arm to the empty space in front of them. “I find that the vast atmosphere will always be accommodating to anyone who asks.”

“What’s atmosphere?”

“The atmosphere is the air that surrounds the Earth. It’s the sky as high up as you can go, higher than where planes fly, and it’s the air all around you.”

Jonathan looked up and saw the stars and the medley of black and dark blues that painted the sky. It was so empty and open, but he started to see how crowded it was, too. A strong gust of wind blew by them and as Jonathan pulled the jacket tighter around himself, he thought about how the wind filled the air, the atmosphere.

“And look below,” Simon said and pointed to the water. “When did you first jump into the water? This afternoon?”

“It- It was day time,” he said quietly. “The sun was out.”

Simon nodded with an eccentric smile that made the young boy want to believe everything he said and try to pretend to be happy. “Any other person wouldn’t have lived long enough to see the night, but the water kept you when you jumped in. You jumped in and it held onto you because it wanted  _ you. _ ”

Jonathan leaned forward, looking into the dark, rocking water. “The water likes me?”

“It does indeed! The vastness of the ocean and sky have welcomed you, Jonathan! All you have to do is accept them.”

Jonathan craned his neck to look down into the water. He slowly got onto his hands and knees and crawled forward back to the edge of the dock and looked down into the bottomless, dark water. Simon said that the water liked him. Maybe they could be friends? Jonathan reached down and dipped his fingers into the cold water. He quickly pulled his hand out, afraid the water would pull him back in and reignite the fire in his chest.

“It’s all right,” Simon said. Simon crawled forward to be beside Jonathan and dipped his hand into the water, moving his hands around as the water moved and swished with his movements. “There are lots of things in the water, but there are also so many things not in the water. The amount of ocean to the number of animals means there’s so much empty ocean that you’d be lucky to see one.”

Jonathan thought about this and decided that he wanted to see one of those animals. He pushed his hand back into the water and felt something brush against his hand. He gasped and peered into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it had been. “I felt something!”

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

Jonathan nodded his head, his heart thrumming for an entirely different reason then. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. He had no idea what was under there, but he wanted to see it all and feel nothing at the same time.

The water lapsed over Jonathan’s wrist making him shiver in what was partially the cold and partially wonder. He looked at Simon and asked, “Is the ocean your friend, too?”

“Yes, it is. It drives a friend of mine crazy.”

“Why?”

“Because he goes out onto the ocean to be alone. He thinks the ocean is lonely and dangerous, so he doesn’t like it when I tell him how much I like the open sea and how much is really under the surface.”

Jonathan pondered for a moment. “Why does he like being lonely?”

Simon shrugged. “He likes it that way.”

That didn’t sound right to Jonathan. He was always lonely and it made him sad. He was never happy to be alone, especially when he saw other kids playing with their friends. He’d give anything to have a friend. Just one friend would be enough. Someone to sit outside and look at the sky with him.

“You’re a good friend,” Jonathan told Simon. “Your friend needs someone to not be lonely with.”

Simon smiled like he thought Jonathan’s idea was a good one. “That’s a very good idea, Jonathan.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“I think you just did.”

Jonathan looked away. Did that mean he’d just used his question? Was he allowed to ask another question?

“You can ask your question, my boy.”

Jonathan let out a deep breath in relief. “Can you call me Jon? I like Jon better than Jonathan.”

“Jon it is my boy.”

Jon looked at Simon to make sure he wasn’t kidding and his smile was proof enough for Jon. He looked back to the water and this time, his eyes caught on the surface reflection and he slowly looked up to the real thing above him.

The stars spread across the sky and Jonathan could see everything. He didn’t know what he was looking at exactly, but he saw the artistry of the night sky filled with glowing lights and amazing colors. “What do the stars look like up close?”

“Magnificent. Those aren’t just stars, though. There are planets and moons and there are even things you can’t see.”

“Wow.”

“Now, I think it’s about time you were home young man.” Jon turned around to Simon but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t you think?”

Jon’s smile faltered. “I don’t have a home.”

Simon hummed. “Yes, but that makes you different.”

“I don’t want to be different.”

“Everyone’s different, Jonathan, but you...” Simon put a light hand on Jon’s back and looked up to the sky. “Remember what I said earlier. The sky looks at you the same way you look at it.”

Jon followed Simon’s gaze and looked back to the millions of stars; what Simon said that were stars and planets and moons.

“It’s not just the sky either. You were in that water for a long time, and you weren’t in there to cool off now, were you?”

Jon didn’t know what to say to that. He just pulled the soaked jacket around himself again.

“You jumped into the water and it saw you, just like the sky saw you, and it held you. It gave you a home.”

Jon looked into the water. He did want to go back in. “The water will protect me?”

“In a way, yes.”

Jon didn’t think that sounded right, but he did believe it. Simon was nice. He could trust him, right? Maybe, if the water wouldn’t swallow him, it could hold him when a blanket wasn’t enough. Jon felt a steady hand around his arm and was lifted to his feet as Simon stood.

“Now, until you’re old enough, you have this place to call home.”

“What happens when I’m old enough?”

Simon smiled and his gentle features soothed Jon. “You come and find me. You can meet other people like you.”

His eyes widened like saucers. “There are people like me?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, there are. You’re not alone.” Simon raised his hand and with a flick of his wrist, a card appeared in his fingers seemingly out of thin air. He held out the card to Jonathan who took it in stunned silence.

Jon held the card in both hands, trying to understand the words that were written in smooth, curly writing that made it hard to read. It said, “Fairchild Incorporated” with “Simon Fairchild” written in a smaller font underneath it with some numbers.

“What does incorporated mean?”

“It means to be unified into one thing,” Simon said. “It’s one family with many people.”

“You have a family? How big is it?”

“Oh, there are dozens of people in my family.” Simon put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “And I hope one day that you will be one of them.”

“Really?”

Simon nodded. “Now, let’s get you back to your grandmother. You must be exhausted.”

Simon walked Jon back to his grandmother’s house. The outside light was on, moths swarming around it. When Simon knocked on the door there was an almost immediate response as it opened to reveal Jon’s grandmother.

Jon kept his head down. She must have been furious with him. He wondered if she would call the woman tonight and tell her to come to pick him up tomorrow.

“Jon!” His grandmother crouched down and suddenly her arms were wrapped around Jon’s small body, soaked clothing and all, and she didn’t let go for a long time. Jon’s eyes stayed wide open. No one had hugged him since… He hadn’t been hugged in over a year. She pulled back, keeping a firm grasp on his arms, and there was a small smile on her face. “When I said to go outside I didn't mean to stay out all day.”

Jon lowered his head again. “I’m sorry.”

His grandmother sighed and stood up. “Thank you,” she said to Simon.

“It’s my pleasure, Madam. You have quite a clever, young grandson.”

“I suppose I do.”

Jon felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see it was Simon’s. “I’ll see you around, Jonny-boy.”

Jon didn’t like that name and he wasn’t sure he believed that he’d see Simon again, but Simon smiled like he was certain that he’d see him again. Simon was an adult. If he thought they’d see each other again, he probably knew it.

“Thank you, Simon.”

His grandmother took the jacket from around Jon’s shoulders and handed it back to Simon. “I’m sorry about your jacket.”

“No worries! It’s only water.”

“Thank you again.”

Simon gave a nod of his head. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Sims.” He then nodded to Jon, giving a tip of an imaginary hat before turning around and walking back to the street.

Jon’s grandmother led him inside, but Jon’s head was turned around to watch Simon walk away until his grandmother closed the door.

“Let’s get you a towel and changed into some dry clothes.” She led Jon to the bathroom and pulled a towel out of the closet. “Did you go swimming at the beach?”

Jon looked anywhere but his grandmother’s face. “I went to the beach. I was under the water for a long time I think.”

She sat on the toilet, tugging him over to stand in front of her. “Do you like swimming?”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

“Were you trying to learn?”

“No.” Jon’s eyes were hurting the same way they did before he started crying.

“Jon,” she said gently. She held his cold, clammy hands in hers. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want to come out, but Simon pulled me out.” Jon choked on his sobs and gasped for air like his tears were choking him like the water had. Jon then felt himself being pulled into his grandmother’s arms. “I’m sad,” he choked out. He cried into her shirt and tried to quiet himself, but his sobs came out in loud gasps that hurt his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” his grandmother whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry.” She slowly pulled back when Jon’s cries had settled, and when Jon raised his head to look at her, he saw tears on her cheeks. “Let’s get you dried off and into some pajamas and I’ll fix you some dinner.” Jon nodded his head slowly and let his grandmother wrap a white, fluffy towel around him and lead him to the room where his bag was.

Jon was very glad that she didn’t make him take a bath. He held the fluffy towel around himself with his grandmother’s firm hand on his back and fought to keep his eyes open.

“Can you dress yourself or do you need help?”

“I can do it.”

His grandmother nodded and left him in the room. She turned back to him and said, “Come to the kitchen when you’re done.” Then, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Jon’s lips trembled and he didn’t know if it was from cold or crying, but he did as he was told and pulled out the pajamas he’d worn the previous night after fighting his drenched clothing off that stuck to his skin. The dry, cotton clothing felt very warm and comforting even though his hair was still dripping water down his neck and face. He draped the towel over his head and opened the door of the room and made his way to the kitchen. In other houses he’d been in, he’d been confused as to where everything was, but this house was so small and there was only one floor, so despite only knowing the house for a few days, it wasn't hard to find his way around.

In the kitchen, his grandmother was making a sandwich. There was a small dining table on the other side of the room, but Jon just stood in the doorway. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t think there was much of anything to do.

When she finished the sandwich, his grandmother turned and saw Jon simply standing there. She walked over and leaned down. Without a word, she took the towel from Jon’s head and quickly and roughly dragged it all over his hair, pushing his head this way and that. When she was done, Jon’s head wasn’t wet anymore.

“I made you a sandwich,” she said. She spoke softer than she had the past few days. “Sit down.” She pulled out a chair at the table and Jon climbed onto it and sat down before she pushed the seat back in with him in it. She came back with a plate that clinked against the wood as she put it down in front of him.

Jon wasn’t hungry, but he looked up at his grandmother and saw the expectant look on her face behind her silver hair and took a small bite of the sandwich.


End file.
